


I'm Not Saying She Likes Microphages

by dev_chieftain



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: F/F, F/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev_chieftain/pseuds/dev_chieftain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the DA Kink Meme: So maybe Mother dearest has a thing for handsome apostates, right? I'd like to see her and Anders getting in a hot secret affair behind everyone's back.</p><p>In the end Hawke finds out and is promptly horrified/envious! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Saying She Likes Microphages

**Author's Note:**

> But I ain't seen her with no Force mages.

Today is the worst day in the history of days in all of Oscar Hawke's life. Yes, even worse than the day she realized her father had a terrible, terrible sense of humor and had suggested she be named 'Oscar' because it was a boy's name, and her mother's parents were on about family heirs before the whole romantic run away forever thing.

Back on track. "You're dating _ANDERS_?" she bellows. Varric, who was in the middle of stealing from her wine collection, sniggers indelicately and adds in an undertone,

"'Hawke shouted imperiously.'"

"Shut _up_ ," she snarls, pointing at him, and then turns back to her mother in horror. "And really, Anders? Anders, who Bethany said looks like father? That Anders? The one whose real name we'll probably never know who lives in _Darktown_ Anders?"

"Yes." Leandra Hawke is terribly good at smirking when it means her daughter will rue life and all that. "He's a fetching sort, you know. Just tall enough. Oh, and: Healer."

" _Mother._ "

"You know, after we--"

" _I am not listening, Mother._ "

"--sometimes he uses--"

Oscar is desperate enough that she considers pulling her daggers on her own mother. Yes, today is wretched. Awful. She's going to cry her eyes dry into Isabela's bosom after this to make it all better. "Please! Stop talking!"

"--and then we can go it _again._ Quite wonderful, really. _Very_ like your father." A knowing smile and some information that will have Oscar choking on the memory of it for weeks to come. Possibly years. "Oh? Dear, where are you going?"

Holding up a hand to stop her mother from advancing after her, she uses the other to motion for Varric to come along (he does, swiping a bottle of her finest brandy. She allows it because frankly, she's going to be drinking most of it in the Hanged Man, if he knows what's good for him). "Antoinette's going to clean out the bar at cards," she says, in all seriousness, grim and disgusted despite herself. "Also, Varric has an appointment and-- oh yes, I needed to go _die from embarrassment_ , haven't checked that off my to-do list."

"Really, dear, this is why I don't tell you about my suitors," her mother says, in that infuriating Always Right tone.

"He's too young for you, is all," Oscar grits, somehow forming clear words with her teeth clamped shut. "It's a bit odd."

With a laugh that is dangerously smug, Leandra Hawke winks at her daughter. "Oh, even with Grey Warden stamina he has a little trouble keeping up. You'd be surprised, my dear."

Drowning her sorrows in brandy, crying herself out in Isabela's bosom, and probably wheedling Fenris into doing a musical number before she's going to be able to deal with this unwanted information. And oh, Maker. She's never going to Anders's clinic again. What if he tries to talk to her? Ever?

"Goodbye, Mother."

She'll just have to punch him until he stops trying. That should work.


End file.
